


To The Races

by connorssock



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Betting, Fake Dating, Get Together, M/M, Racing, Undercover, no animals were harmed in the making of this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 21:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17311883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorssock/pseuds/connorssock
Summary: Gavin and Nines are assigned a case the involves illegal smuggling of animals, illegal betting and...illegally imported fruits? Little did they expect to get sucked into the world of racing while pretending to be dating and become doting owners to their own little racer.





	To The Races

**Author's Note:**

> For chip over on the Hankcon2019 BB discord server, as part of the Secret Santa.
> 
> Chip, you asked for fake dating. There's a smidge of that in here. I am sorry about the rest of it - got a little carried away.

An illegal fruit smuggling ring. Gavin wanted to laugh in Fowler’s face as he was presented with his latest case. He and Nines were to break into the ring which also allegedly had a hand in illegal betting and animal smuggling but those weren’t confirmed. The fruit thing definitely was though. All in all, it was a clusterfuck that Gavin didn’t really want to be a part of but had no choice. Career over dignity and all that, right?

Making contact with the ring was surprisingly easy. Gavin swaggered towards the backroom of the shady bar, Nines at his heels like the obedient guard dog he was. Which was a bit of a lie, Nines wasn’t all that bad if Gavin was being honest with himself. In fact, he was more than alright. But that wasn’t something Gavin was ever willing to voice out loud.

He approached the table where a game of poker was being played and fished around in his pocket for a roll of cash.

“Got room for one more?” he asked casually and grinned when a chair was kicked out for him.

Eyes turned to behind him as he sat and a few of the people playing shifted uneasily.

“No hired hands back here,” one of them said.

Even though he knew it was Nines behind him, Gavin twisted to look. Sure enough, Nines towered behind him, LED swirling blue as his lips ticked up a little at the corners. Having known him long enough, Gavin knew it was his warmest, friendliest expression but sadly to the uninitiated masses it really looked like a murder smile.

“Don’t worry about his, he’s my-” Gavin wanted to say associate.

“-boyfriend,” Nines cut in smoothly and rested his hands on Gavin’s shoulders.

“Heh, yeah, boyfriend,” Gavin swallowed thickly.

The excuse cut a little too close to the quick; if he were a better man he would have already admitted his feelings and done something about it. But the beauty of insecurity, a history of hating androids and a dose of shyness nobody would have thought him capable of had rendered him a bit of an incompetent mess in the emotions department when it came to Nines.

“If you want a chair you have to pay,” the head of the group gruffly bit out.

Gavin almost wished he hadn’t seen Nines’ reaction, a small twitch of his eyebrow which might as well have been a belly laugh for him.

“I don’t need a chair.”

To Gavin’s ears that came out more sultry than possible but before he had a chance to overthink things, a tall android was draping himself in his lap, arms looped around his neck.

“Please, don’t mind me,” Nines said and turned to push his head into the crook of Gavin’s neck like a sex kitten in a dated porno.

As the game progressed, Nines began to wriggle a little, his lips brushed against Gavin’s neck. To all intents and purposes it looked like he was mouthing at the skin, pressing kisses. In reality his voice was low in his ear.

“The head of the table is Gregorio; he’s the right hand man to Martins. To his left is Pesci, suspected of breaking animal control regulations. Opposite him is Bower, known bookie and most likely to be the one to arrange the creature fights and races.”

Gavin tried to hum in acknowledgement but Nines piped up again.

“Oh, and Pesci just pulled a card from his sleeve.”

How on earth he knew that without even facing towards the man was beyond Gavin but it was an opportunity he couldn’t miss.

“If we’re all picking cards we fancy, I wouldn’t mind another Jack.”

All eyes were on him and he bared his teeth in a not so friendly smile.

“Your friend over there,” he gestured to Pesci, “he pulled a card from his sleeve.”

Nobody said anything. Eyes shifted between Gavin and Pesci until Gregorio burst out laughing.

“We like to make things a little more interesting here.”

“Oh yeah? I happen to like interesting things.”

If only all of Gavin’s assignments were that easy. It broke the ice and allowed him to slowly befriend the criminals while Nines swung his legs while sat on his lap, murmuring the occasional advice on who had what cards and when to fold. In the end, Gavin left with a bit more money than he came in with and an invitation to the next bet.

 

                Trepidation wasn’t a word that often featured in Gavin’s vocabulary and that wasn’t because he didn’t know what it meant. No, he dreaded to find out what he was going to find at the bet that evening. As a detective he’d seen a lot of gruesome things, heard so many terrible stories but he didn’t think it could prepare him for what kinds of things a smuggling ring dealing in not just fruits but also animals could come up with.

He was grateful Nines was at his back again. The docks were abandoned and their location was down towards the waterfront. The walked past giant warehouses, each derelict and crumbling. Hell, they could do so much worse than cocks and dogs, they could have bulls in there. Gavin swallowed down the bile in his throat. Finally Nines tapped him on the shoulder.

“I think we’re here.”

He nodded towards a smaller office building. The windows were boarded up and only very muffled sounds of shouting came through. No doubt it was soundproofed to keep all the awful noises in.

“Nines,” Gavin sighed and turned to the android. “I just want you to know, whatever we see in there, no matter how horrible, not all of humanity is like that. These are the scum of the earth and we’ll put them behind bars as quickly as possible.”

He waited for Nines to nod in acknowledgement before he turned back to the door and pulled it open. It was smaller than he expected on the inside, humid and people were centred around something while shouting. Someone turned to him with a frown.

“Close the door idiot. You’ll let the heat and humidity out!”

Nines obediently pulled the door shut behind them. Together, they waded through the crowd, trying to get a glimpse of what was going on but it was too hectic.

“And Betty-Lou wins!” someone yelled.

Screams of cheers and groans filled the air.

“She’s done it again, steady in her pacing, eyes firmly on the prize of the finest blueberries from Peru.”

The crowd roared. Something was lifted above their heads and Gavin squinted at it.

“Is that…” he trailed off, cleared his throat. “Is that a snail?”

“A Giant African Land Snail, yes,” Nines solemnly agreed.

Before Gavin could utter anything crude to express his disbelief, Bower and Pesci appeared from nowhere.

“I am so glad you could make it!” Sincerity oozed from Bower.

What followed was a whirlwind tour of the place. The snails were all resting in their terrariums, their owners tended to them, misting them, enticing them with the finest cuts of fruits and vegetables. They were shown to the table where bets were being taken for the next race, odds on chalkboards behind the person manning the booth.

“Why don’t you have a flutter?” Bower purred in Gavin’s ear.

At a loss, Gavin turned to Nines for help. He was a hardened detective, prepared to take on the worst of criminals. What he wasn’t equipped to do was make a bet on racing snails.

“What do you think, babe?” he added the last bit on at the end hastily.

Nines graced him with a small smile again.

“Perhaps you’d like to put fifty on Zoomette, the odds look promising.”

“You letting your broad dictate where your money goes?” Pesci asked with wild wonder and Gavin shrugged.

“What can I say? He’s got good taste.”

“I did pick him over all the other boys lusting after me after all,” Nines wrapped an arm around Gavin and pulled him close.

He technically wasn’t lying. Nines had asked to be partnered with Gavin over all the other officers and detectives who had put in requests to work with him. So yeah, Nines did pick Gavin over everybody else in a way.

Money bet on Zoomette, Gavin and Nines were ushered towards other stalls. There were stands with fruits and vegetables, the finest lettuce from the Netherlands, banana from Japan and what actually did look mouth-watering were the blueberries from Peru. People were haggling over their prices and Gavin dared a glance at Nines who nodded at him. Typical, the tin can could pull up import rules and regulations to run their finds against in real time.

“What’s wrong with regular shop bought blueberries?” Gavin asked as they walked past.

“They’re all the same, chemically treated, stored in haulage for longer. Organic and home grown are either sold at a premium or out of season,” Bower shrugged. “If someone wants to feed their pets that then it’s up to them. But our products are fresher and better. Import control throttled the market.”

There was nothing to do but nod to that. Gavin couldn’t fathom what to say. Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about it too much because the next stall, at the back of the shed caught his eye. There were plastic tubs all along the back wall; a few vivariums showcased snails with signs that declared them to be of various lines. Gavin’s personal favourites had to be the Phantom and the Greasy Streak lineages.

“Perhaps you’d be interested in joining the races with an entrant of your own?” Pesci purred in his ear.

Before Gavin could respond, he was being hauled into an in-depth lecture on the various snails, their heritages. Who knew that the Arrow descendants were renowned for keeping on course in a straight line while the Slippery Toms were fast but easily distracted from the finish line? Gavin nodded as best as he could but his eyes lingered on the price tags. Suddenly the minimum bet of fifty made sense. Whoever thought it a great idea to spend three-fifty on a single snail was obviously rolling in it.

“Or maybe you’re feeling lucky,” he zoned back in to what Pesci was saying. “We have a few new imports, untested so the price will reflect their inexperience. But if you win with one, you could make a pretty penny with mating and offspring.”

“Sure, let’s do that,” Gavin nodded.

He was presented with a couple of plastic boxes with identical looking snails in each of them. A hand on the small of his back urged him to look at them and Gavin peered down confused. At least, he was befuddled but judging by the happy hum from Pesci and Bower to his side, it might have looked like he was all knowing and evaluating his options like a pro. One of the snails eye stalks followed him as he turned to look at another box. That sealed the deal.

“This one,” he pointed at the curious snail.

“A very fine choice. A strong foot, good mucous production. You’re a natural at this,” Bower patted him on the back.

Gavin didn’t expect the snail to be lifted from its box and plonked in his hands. He didn’t drop it or squirm but it was a close call.

“Now you need to name it,” Bower urged.

Gavin looked down at the snail. It seemed to stare back at him, eyestalks popping out again.

“Stardust.”

“I like it,” Nines murmured softly in his hair as he pressed a kiss on his head.

Mutely, Gavin put the snail back in its box, wiped his hand on the cloth he was offered and let Pesci talk him into buying everything he could need for being a successful snail racer. Gavin wondered how this was his life and gave up thinking very quickly, opting to live in relative sanity rather than get lost in the insanity of it all when the thought about it too hard.

 

                The case dragged on. Stardust seemed perfectly happy in her vivarium (“not terrarium Gavin, stop calling it that,” Nines would grumble) and Gavin grew used to her. Organic blueberries, cucumber and fish flakes all became part of the regular shopping order.

“Nines!” Gavin warbled down his phone at his partner as he stared in horror into the tank. “Stardust is ill! Come and help!”

It was a testament to their working partnership that Nines didn’t even question Gavin; he was there in 15 minutes, a bag of snail care products already in hand. He wasn’t worried about Stardust though, not at all. The bag of products was something he just so happened to have lying around in his apartment.

“I don’t know if it’s a fungus from some food or what!” Gavin was pacing, looking quite bereft in his panic.

Over the last couple of weeks they’d gotten quite into the whole snail racing thing without meaning to. There was something wonderfully delightful about standing in a humid warm room and yelling at a table full of snails to go faster towards the finish line. There was absolutely no added pleasure in having to pretend to be dating, Nines’ hand usually on the small of Gavin’s back, feeling his breath vibrate through him with each shout. Of course it was a one off incident of emotions running high when Gavin had all but jumped up at Nines, legs wrapping around his waist and planted a kiss on his cheek as Gunk Hunk won against all odds and landed them with a pretty sum of cash.

In Gavin’s living room, Nines peered into the vivarium, eyes already scanning and ready to analyse any mould, fungus or other contaminant. His gaze settled on the unearthed mound of small white things Gavin had found. Nines let out a little gasp.

“Oh no, it’s bad isn’t it?” Gavin paced behind him. “I’ve gone and fucked it up, haven’t I? She’s going to die a slow and painful death.”

“Gavin,” Nines turned as he stood and tried to push the widest smile possible onto his face. His lips twitched up and his teeth gleamed in the small parting between his lips. “Congratulations, you’re having babies.”

“We,” Gavin corrected from where he’d plopped down onto the floor in a daze. “They’re yours as well as mine.”

Nines sat down next to him and was surprised when Gavin laced their fingers together, eyes still on Stardust’s vivarium.

“We’re not working the case right now,” he gently reminded him.

With a blush and a stammer of swearing Gavin began to pull his hand back but Nines tightened his grip.

“But that does not mean I don’t welcome your touch.”

“Oh,” Gavin nodded and relaxed his arm, fingers still laced. “Okay.”

They sat on the floor, holding hands and staring at their snail munching on a pepper while her eggs geared up to hatch.

 

                There were too many babies. Gavin couldn’t fathom how thirty baby snails could appear in his vivarium so quickly. Or what he could do with them. Thankfully, his answer came in the form of Connor. He’d been drafted in on the case along with Hank as backup and a point of contact. So they were well aware of the snail situation and Connor especially had been intrigued by the babies.

“Only if you can bear to separate from a couple of them,” Connor was saying even as Gavin was pushing a tub of four baby snails into his hands along with a care sheet.

After Connor is was Miller asking for a couple for his kids. Tina ended up with a couple in a box on her desk and she squealed in delight. Even a few of the uniformed officers and androids asked for a couple. All in total secret, discretion was the key to rehoming illegally imported creatures. But, Gavin figured the babies were born on American soil so had a right to remain alive and well as citizens. He was a bit hazy on those aspects of the law and didn’t want to ask Nines in case his own version was wrong.

Finding Connor and Hank at the table, yelling at It’s Slime Time while Gavin and Nines willed Big Foot on was a bit jarring. At least they were all equally disappointed when Crunch Time won despite a cracked shell. Though Nines’ consolation kiss more than made up for Gavin’s annoyance.

The details of the case weren’t top secret and even when it was wrapped up, there were still murmurs about it. Some of the newly found snail owners were a little bit put out that they never got to experience the now legendary snail races down on the docks.

When the case was over, it hadn’t made headlines. The DPD couldn’t very well go to press to proudly proclaim they’d shut down an illegal snail racing ring – the criminals had banked on that. Their business was too small time for the police to worry about. Smuggling fruits on a larger scale had been their downfall and what they members of the gang were charged with. The smaller charges of illegal betting and animal importing were dropped from the report to the news. Nobody really cared about a few snails. If it had been endangered or vicious, large animals it would have been a whole different matter.

Somehow, the last Sunday of each month found the breakroom of the DPD converted. All tables, chairs and couches were pushed to the edges of the room. A table from catering had been commandeered, lanes taped on them. Members of the precinct slipped into the building through the backdoor, clutching opaque plastic boxes on hot water bottles.

The screaming was heard from the outside when the races took off, Gavin found himself as the one in charge of bets, overtime, reports and cases were all currency in their games. Thankfully Nines helped him keep track of things, issues out winnings and warnings when people hadn’t paid up from a previous race all while holding his hand, at first under and after a while, above the table.

 

                The week before a race was usually fraught with tension. People became more prone to hiding their lunches, not wanting to tip off what baskets of fruit and veg they were finishing off before it went out of date. Gavin and Nines were picking up a few bits and bobs from the vegetable stall around the corner from the precinct. There was a cough from behind them and they turned as one.

“Anderson, Connor,” Gavin nodded as he looked at their basket.

“Reed, Nines,” Hank replied and did just the same as Gavin, judgement heavy in his eyes.

No further words were exchanged and Gavin paid for his good before turning sharply to walk back to the precinct.

“Did you see?” he hissed and Nines let out a small chuckle. “Mushrooms and cabbage! This close to the race? It wasn’t even the organic kind. Are they hoping to give Gary an extra boost through wind?”

“Snails don’t fart like us Gavin. Now quit being a vegetable snob.”

“I know. I know. And with a name like Gary? It’s a wonder the snail ever comes out of his shell. I’d be too mortified. What was Connor thinking?”

“Probably something similar to when your parents looked at you and decided to call you Gavin,” Nines snipped and deftly avoided the smack Gavin tried to send towards his backside.

“Fine, whatever. But I’m so giving Stardust those organic pumpkin seeds you’ve been hiding for the finish line tonight. She needs a treat.”

“Whatever you say,” Nines replied and pressed a kiss to Gavin’s cheek.

 

                Race day was the busiest it had ever been. People were shouting out their bets, spraying their snails with water and generally showing off how much they’d grown in the month. Gavin and Nines were putting up race schedules and odds when a hush descended on the whole room. All eyes turned to the doorway where Captain Fowler stood.

“Captain,” Hank mumbled as the senior office present.

Suddenly Gavin was grateful he didn’t get the promotion he’d been angling for so much. He did not want to be on the receiving end of Fowler’s undoubtedly irate lecture that was about to be unleashed.

“At ease,” came the barked order instead.

Even worse, Fowler smiled as he pulled a suspiciously familiar looking box from the inside of his coat.

“Room for one more racer? Lydia is the sole survivor of the Wet Fred crossed with Tricky Slicky dynasty.”

A roar went up around the break room. The races were on.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr - @connorssock


End file.
